Rory was mildly disappointed Zane was wearing jockeys—Hong Kong Fuey—under his towel when he emerged from the bathroom.
“You gonna shower?” Zane asked. “Plenty of pressure.”
Rory thought it a good idea, even though he’d showered after visiting the prison. He emerged a few minutes later wearing a pair of solid blue boxers. Zane was back on the bed, channel surfing.
As was his usual practice before bed, Rory got out his tablet and began to read.
“Sorry, did you say something?” Rory asked sometime later when he sensed Zane had asked him a question.
“Is this disturbing you?” He pointed to the TV.
“No, not at all.” He was used to filtering out background noise while reading. He went back to his book, a pretty dry account of the War of 1812, but felt Zane’s eyes on him rather than the TV s
